There is usually one Christmas that everyone remembers more than others. Most of the time it is full of gifts that one never thought they would receive or a time with family that made one really appreciate everything around them. For me, the Christmas that sticks out the most is possibly one that should be the worst ever. However, in hindsight, it made me realize how blessed I was and what Christmas is really about (sort of like, Clark Griswold).
When I was 10, I had given up dance for a while due to a fractured thumb and wrist which placed me in a cast for months. A few months after my incident, my sister hurt her knee cap and was on crutches. Even so, Christmas eve and morning were just as they should be, perfect! We had a ton of presents that my mom had spent hours wrapping with tags from Santa and woke up to the tape of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing a number of Holiday songs. There was a plate of holiday M&M's and Andes mints waiting for us on the coffee table and we were up at the crack of dawn ready to unwrap the gifts. From there, we enjoyed a magnificent Christmas dinner at my grandmother's house, complete with her famous persimmon pudding, traveled back an hour and half to our home and prepared for the next day, when we would be leaving for my dad's family.
The day after Christmas turned into a total disaster. As my mom begged my sister and me to get dressed and packed, smoke filled the house and we ran to the kitchen to find a pan of bacon on fire. My mom, being a quick thinker, took the pot outside (flames and all) and smothered it, then returned inside to put out the remaining flames with the fire extinguisher and call 911. Meanwhile, I was crying and my sister was in shock. Our kitchen was stained with smoke and when my dad returned home he announced we would not go to see his family that day.
For some reason, the news devastated me. All I could think of was missing out on the huge family trip complete with a southern meal of turkey, ham, corn pudding, cranberry casserole, seven layer salad, potatoes and green beans, corn pudding, and tons of food and deserts. To top it off, I couldn't stand the thought of missing out on the opening of the piles of presents we would receive, already forgetting about those opened on Christmas Day. To me, Christmas was ruined and all I could think was, "Thanks mom for burning the bacon (real thankful, right?)."
Thankfully, my dad announced we would go for New Years, but it would not be the same. I would not get to see my cousins, who I loved spending time with, and sing the carols I loved to sing with that side of the family during the holidays. Even so, I was excited and looking forward to the trip. Unfortunately, our plans changed when on December 30th, the day we were supposed to leave, a car crossed the lines on our rode and hit my mom and dad head on leaving our family vehicle in total disrepair.
As happy as I was my parents were okay and the woman who hit them, who attempted to drive off, could not drive more than a quarter mile up the road due to the damage she inflicted, I was crushed. The holidays were ruined for me. I cried and complained, begged my parents to just rent a vehicle and go until my dad gave up and put me in my place.
On New Year's Eve, my father sat me down and reminded me of how thankful I should be. He told me about a Christmas where a young boy from their small town in Eastern North Carolina had nothing, no family, no gifts, and often walked up and down the streets staring at the picturesque scenes around him. For years, my dad had made fun of the child until one Christmas when his father told him this young man's story and about his parents, one in prison, the other an alcoholic. That Christmas my dad's parents invited him in one evening for dinner, it was the first real Christmas he ever experienced. Later on, that young man came back to thank my father's family for all they had given him over the years, he grew to be successful and part of a company after getting a scholarship to college, which no one in his family had ever received. My dad looked at me and said, "You need to be thankful for what you have and stop being disappointed in the things you do not have. Count your Blessings."
Talk about feeling like a totally spoiled kid, I felt so bad for making my parents feel like they were the cause of all the woes we experienced that Christmas, even though, they really were not their fault and they were not that bad. If my mom had not been so concerned about being sure everything would go as usual, she would have never forgotten about the bacon on the stove. If my dad and mom had not gone out to grab some last gift items to take down to my family in order to get there over the holidays, the woman would have never hit them, but if they did not I would have continued to think that everything was supposed to be perfect and work like a clock during the holidays.
On New Years Eve, as we watched the ball drop on television, I hugged my dad tight and thanked him and mom for everything. Despite thinking so poorly of everything, I fell asleep that night under the lights of the Christmas tree thanking God for a Christmas spent with the people I spent most my life with daily, my mom, dad, and sister.
Although, I have many great memories of the holidays, especially those spent in Williamsburg, Virginia, I will never forget the lesson learned from this particular time. Sometimes, we get so caught up in the hustle of the time that we forget how much those around us do to make sure we have a holly jolly Christmas. From then on, even through the hardest times there after, I never complained.
Today, I make it a tradition with my children to make boxes or packages for those less fortunate, to remind them of the first Christmas Story we hold so dear, and to be sure they know that this time of year is about God, family, hope, peace, and love.
I wish you all a very Merry Christmas.
